MiniCat Compilation!
by SomethingCalledShips
Summary: A compilation of MiniCat-themed shorts! Read with caution: there will be fluff and there will be smut!
1. Wildest Dreams

Mini thanked the man on the other end of the phone before hanging up. He turned back to his computer screen excitedly, his heart racing.

"Guys! They asked me start on Monday!"

"Craig that is great news!" SeaNanners congratulated over the Skype call. He was joined by the other four on the chat. Everyone was talking excitedly, completely forgetting about the Cards Against Humanity game they had been playing.

"So whats the role?" Panda asked.

"I'm the main voice for an animated feature at Disney!"

"That's sick dude!" Ze and Chilled congratulated. "I'm so jealous," Chilled added.

"This is crazy! This is my wildest dream coming true!" Mini was shouting at the top of his lungs. His friends were equally as excited, grilling him with questions about the new movie.

Mini was very aware of how silent Wildcat was.

—

Mini wasn't picking up his phone. He hadn't picked it up the last three times either. Wildcat sat in his desk chair silent, staring at his phone, willing it to buzz.

"You're being quiet Wildcat. You AFK?" Evan's voice came from Wildcat's speakers.

"I'm here," Wildcat responded, distracted.

"You know he doesn't stop work until six right?"

"Yeah."

"And it's three."

"Yeah."

"Stop doing this to yourself, Wildcat. This has been the routine for over a month now," Evan sighed. "Mini will call when he can, just like he will play when he can."

—

"You need to come out to LA, Wildcat," Mini slurred on the other end. It was one in the morning, and he was calling him from the rap party on his new film. "It's so much fun."

"Why are you just now returning my calls, man?" Wildcat whispered angrily, still groggy from sleep. "You send one short text or spend thirty minutes playing a game before disappearing for another week! What's going on?"

"Chill out, dude. I've just been working really hard," Mini was clearly annoyed. "I'm trying to play with you guys I really am."

"Yeah? Really feels like you're putting in some fucking effort," Wildcats sarcasm stung.

"Tyler I'm sorry, please. I'm just really excited because this is what I've wanted to do for so long and now I'm able to do it! I'm living my dream right now! Why can't you be more supportive?"

"Well, I'm glad one of us is living it up."

"Tyler—"

"And don't call me Tyler. Only my friends call me Tyler." Wildcat hung up before the first wave of tears hit him.

—

It was a cruel joke. Mini's film was nominated for Best Animated Feature at the Oscars. His Instagram was filled with captured moments from parties, dinner dates, TV interviews. His YouTube channel had surpassed Vanoss's in subscriptions. Mini was getting everything he ever wanted.

So why was Mini watching Wildcat's most recent uploaded video? Why was he lying awake in bed next to a beautiful blond girl who's name he didn't remember but who knew all about him? When had this, empty champagne bottles and lacy Victoria Secret's underwear strewn around this five star hotel suite in Italy, become his life?

Mini missed Vanoss, SeaNanners, Delirious, Terroriser, and Wildcat. Especially, Wildcat. And Mini felt that pang of longing hit him hard as he listened to his ex-best friend laugh through his headphones.

Mini smiled. He almost felt like they were talking like they used to, Wildcat nothing but a tease and a joker while Mini encouraged him and laughed.

As the headphones fell of his ears and rested in his hands, Mini felt the oppressive silence of his hotel room suffocate him. It was empty, barren without his friend, without Tyler. So Mini crawled back into bed and pretended he didn't miss him, that he didn't care.

—

"Are you watching the Oscars?"

"No," came Wildcat's blunt reply. His back was turned purposefully to the TV.

Vanoss leaned over the back of the couch and glared at him. "He's our friend, Wildcat."

"I'm not interested," Wildcat spoke firmly. He didn't want to see Mini's face, to be reminded of every emotion hit him again. Not in front of Vanoss.

Vanoss raised an eyebrow. "You're not doing a good job at pretending you don't care."

"Eat me."

He shut up and turned back to the TV, wrapping at arm around the girl sitting next to him. Wildcat watched the two out of the corner of his eye, aching to do the same. Then without any warning, Wildcat's eyes were on the TV.

Walking on stage was a group of people, maybe twelve in total, all dressed in suits and long dresses. Yet the most stunning one of them all was a tall, broad shouldered man with short light brown hair and a grin so stupid and large it light up the whole room brighter than any light. Mini.

Wildcat could only stare, forgetting the world around him existed and only saw Mini, only saw his smile glowing and his eyes shining. How could he of been so stupid to of let that, to of let him go?

With the scrap of a chair, Wildcat made his excuse and exited the apartment. He fumbled with his keys as he opened his car, but was soon tearing down the nighttime streets of LA.

—

By the time Mini got home, it was late. Very late. So late it took him several attempts to actually aim the key and slot it into the lock on his front door. When it did open, the lights were already on and Wildcat was standing in his hallway.

The two could only stare, unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry," Mini finally got out.

"No," Wildcat cut in, stepping forward. "I'm sorry. You were right, I should have been more supportive. I should have been there for you, stayed with you, and congratulated you."

Wildcat's hand brushed Mini's face, and Mini closed his eyes and let out a gentle contented sigh as skin made contact with skin.

"I was just scared of loosing you so much that I drove you away instead."

"You never lost me," Mini's eyes opened and the two starred lovingly at each other. "I would of stayed with you forever if you asked me to."

"Well, I'm asking you now," and with a rush of adrenaline, Wildcat pressed his lips against Mini's. It tasted right, it felt right, and the longer the kiss lasted the harder Wildcat fell for his friend. This kiss was well worth the wait of over a year.

—

Wildcat woke up with his arms wrapped around Mini the next morning. Soft light flowed in through the window above the bed, illuminating an awake Mini Ladd, watching him with a small smile on his face.

Wildcat smiled back, and stretched his neck to kiss the tip of his nose, making Mini giggle.

"Morning, Wildcat," he whispered, hoarsely.

"You can call me Tyler. All my friends call me Tyler," Wildcat whispered as his kiss moved to Mini's forehead. The famous, Oscar-winning forehead of his famous, Oscar-winning boyfriend.

"Okay, Tyler," Mini sighed, and caught Wildcat's lips with his. Mini's phone was buzzing, but he ignored it in favor of his boyfriend. Whoever it was, whatever movie it was, it could wait. Because now, Wildcat was his wildest dream, and he was going to enjoy it a little while longer.


	2. The D Grade

Math had never been Tyler's strongest subject; never had, and never will be. Tyler was a pro in Physics, he nailed every AP US History test, he could write an AP Literature essay with his eyes blindfolded, he of course he was the star basketball player for his team. Did that effect his performance in Calculus, though?

Mr. Miles was handing out their most recent tests, and Tyler was not hopeful.

Next to him sat Brock, his closest friend, while behind him sat Evan, his other best friend. To Evan's right and behind Tyler sat Brian, and to Tyler's right was Tom. The five of them had been friends since freshman year when they were all put into Varsity Basketball as the youngest members. They kind of stuck together out of revolt against the seniors, and it kind of stuck, even now that they were seniors.

Mr. Miles reached their little pack of athletes, his mouth pressing into a thin line as he adjusted his glasses awkwardly before handing Tom's test to him. Tom smiled and leaned over the back of his chair to high five Brian as the excited chatter of his friends surrounded Tyler. Tyler sat motionless, starring down at the paper, surprised he expected anything else.

Evan punched his shoulder, getting him to look up at him and Brock, both worried.

"What did you get?" Evan asked, tilting his head slightly.

Tyler sighed, letting a loose a rough laugh before waving his paper at them then shoving it into his binder.

"Gotta D."

"Dude…" Brock and Evan glanced at each other concerned. Tyler knew that look. Coach was already riding Tyler to get his grades in math up. This wasn't going to fly very well with him.

Brian and Tom had already slung their backpacks over their shoulders and were waiting on their other three friends.

"Man what you gotta do to be so bad in math?" Tom teased lightly.

"Yeah! You kick our asses in every other class!" Brian agreed.

"It's because I don't suck Mr. Miles's dick like you kiss asses do," Tyler responded, pushing the door of the math class open and out into the crowded halls of their high school, Yoshituba High. Lockers lined the hallways, and other students were already packing the halls. It was a fight for the five of them to make it to their lockers.

"You gotta watch yourself, bud," Evan was saying, leaning against the locker next to Tyler's while he searched for his Physics textbook. "Coach is getting serious about grades…"

"It's because your lazy ass can't be bothered to learn how to fucking write," Tyler responded, face buried in his locker. He couldn't find his goddamn Physics book.

"Fuck you I'm in the same AP class as you!"

Tyler chuckled. Evan didn't suck, he just used passive voice too much. It was a sore spot that Tyler enjoyed prodding whenever his friend got on his nerves, like now.

"And I'm serious, you jerk off" Evan turned and leaned on his shoulder, now facing his ornery friend. "Listen, maybe we can find you a math tutor?"

Tyler backed up out of his locker and raised an eyebrow. "A tutor?"

Evan smiled, excited by this thought. "Yeah, why not?"

Tyler laughed, finding the book and slamming his locker shut. "No offense Ev, but having a tutor for a math class during second semester of our senior year is kind really lame."

Evan rolled his eyes, following Tyler as they made their way to their Physics class.

"Yeah, okay it's lame as fuck, but Coach will bench you."

"He won't," Tyler glanced at his friend, hoping his confidence would mask the small scrap of dread that had made root in his stomach.

—

Tyler got benched at practice. Coach Carter left Evan, Tom, Brock, and Brian in charge of the rest of the team while he had a talk with Tyler. Evan watched him go while Brock took charge as co-captain of the basketball teams.

"Okay guys! Two laps around the basketball court, then high knees both ways, lunges both ways, then we'll practice lay-ups. Good?" Brock clapped his hands together and took off with Evan, Tom, and Brian, the four of them taking lead as the other six members of Varsity and the fifteen in JV followed them.

"Shit dude," Brian nudged Brock, jerking his head towards the bench where Tyler and Coach were sitting, or rather, Coach was standing with a stern face while Tyler coward beneath it.

Brock cringed in sympathy. "Poor Ty…"

"I say we try and find him a tutor," Evan cut in, pulling up alongside Brian and joining their conversation. "He was against it during Physics, but I bet he'll be interested after this."

"That's a good idea…" Brian nodded in agreement. They rounded the corner, finishing the first lap around the field.

Tom pulled up next to Brock. "We looking at math tutors?"

Brock nodded and Tom frowned with thought. "We thinking girls or boys?"

Brian laughed. "We want to find him a tutor! Not a fucking date!"

Tom rolled his eyes, but laughed anyways.

"We just need to find someone who can put up with Tyler's sass as well as teach a thing or two about Calc, that's all," Brock said. He slowed down and shouted "high knees, other side and back twice, go!"

"What about Sydney? She's good, isn't she?" Brian asked, nudging Evan.

"Syd can't stand him. She even doesn't understand how I'm friends with Ty," Evan shot down.

"What about Julia?"

"Nope," Tom sighed. "She won't stand a chance against sassy Tyler. She's too nice."

"Maybe Minx?" Tom suggested. Brock raised an eyebrow. "The purple-haired girl?"

"Yeah why not? She's bold, and she's smart-"

"And she'll eat Tyler," Brian laughed. "She's too hard. We want him to learn shit, not get into a screaming match."

Brock called out "lunges to half court, then switch legs. Two times, go!" before turning back to his friends and sighing. "There's gotta be someone else we are cool with we can talk to."

"Well, finding someone to put up with Tyler is pretty much impossible!" Tom whined. There was a lot of truth behind that, and although it was kind of mean, none of them could call him out on it. Friends since freshman year, you learn a thing or two about one another. What they had learned about Tyler was that he was difficult.

"What about Craig?" Tom offered a few lunges in silence.

The others frowned, trying to put a face to him.

"Adams friend?" Tom prompted. "He's in our class, sits in the back, kinda quiet, but has that really funny laugh?"

"OH YEAH!" Brian's eyes light up with recognition. "He's cool. I worked on dialogue scene with him in my Theater III class last semester."

"He smart?" Evan asked, breaking his silence.

"If he's in our Calculus class and is friends with Adam, he has to be," Brian reasoned.

Brock glanced at Evan, then both looked towards Tyler. He was on his phone now, Coach no where to be seen. He looked angry, almost ready to throw his phone, but also sad. Evan turned back to Brock and bit his lip. They had no choice.

"Okay guys. Partner and start practicing lay-ups!" Brock called, nudging Evans arm as a way of asking him to team up. Evan nodded and jogged off to open the ball cage for the others.

Brock turned to Tom. "Let's go with Craig. He sounds like a good bet."

"Trust us," Brian answered, smiling with Tom. "Craig is a good bet for Tyler. I'm sure he can bring him up."

—

"Fuck. You."

"Tyler can you just stop being the most difficult human alive for, like, two seconds?" Evan pleaded. It was after school the next day, no practice for any of them so Evan and Brock had dragged Tyler to the library where Brian and Tom were already waiting with Tyler's new tutor.

Tyler folded his arms, raising an eyebrow. Brock and Evan were stood in front of him, both more than annoyed with him.

"Stop being such an asshole, come on!" Brock pleaded.

"I don't need a tutor, and I don't need you guys to set me up with one," Tyler didn't move.

His eyes wandered to the new guy sitting at a table with Brian and Tom, laughing. Tyler recognized the laugh and the smile, but the guy himself he'd never talked to much. He was quiet, kind of a dork with large glasses and neat short hair, pretty much always wore the same five shirts with black jeans and converse. He was smiling now, having a pleasant conversation with Brian and Tom who had cornered him during Brian's Theater class then marched him to the library after school, but still carrying a Starbucks coffee cup.

Evan sighed, frustrated. They had been standing here for almost five minutes. The new guy looked up from Brian and Tom, making eye contact with Tyler. Tyler felt his heart involuntarily skip and he glanced away.

"Okay, I'm sick of this," Brock growled, he and Evan grabbing one of Tyler's arms each and marching him towards the table. Brian and Tom could barely hold back their giggles, and Craig just sat slightly stunned and overwhelmed watching the other three arrive.

"Site right the fuck here and don't fucking move," Brock snarled, pushing Tyler into a chair next to the new guy. Tyler glared at him and Evan, who both moved to sit in chairs on the opposite side of the table next to Brian and Tom.

Let the intervention begin.

"Okay, so, Craig this is Tyler. Tyler, Craig." Tyler turned his head slightly to eye Craig. Craig was smiling sweetly at him, and held out his hand.

"Hi Tyler. Nice to meet you."

Tyler turned away. Craig lowered his hand and his head in slight embarrassment.

"Craig, we wanted to ask you a favor concerning who fine friend here," Tom proposed. Tyler's fist hit the table with a middle finger sticking up. Tom ignored it.

"See, Tyler is currently failing Calculus, and if wants to play in the state championships this year, he needs to NOT be failing Calculus."

Craig nodded slowly.

"Which is where you come in," Evan smiled hopefully. "Can you fix that?"

Craig thought for a second, taking a deep breath and blowing it out of his mouth with a laugh. He turned to Tyler, eyeing him up. Tyler also turned to him, eyeing him up. They were silent for a few moments, before Craig grinned and turned back to Tyler's friends.

"Sure, I'll help out." Tyler swore abuse at his friends as they all sighed in relief and laughed, saying they were worried his salty attitude would scare Craig away. Craig laughed as well.

"When can you start?"

"I can start right now?" Craig offered, turning to Tyler. Tyler opened his mouth to give a short reply in the negative, but Evan cut him off. "Great. He can start now because I'm his ride and I'm not leaving for two hours yet."

And with that, Tyler's friends stood up, smirked at him, and left the library, glancing over their shoulders as if to make sure Tyler wasn't following them.

Tyler sat silently, refusing to turn to Craig who was opening a textbook, a notebook, and pulling a pencil out of his pocket.

"Tyler?"

Nope. Not moving. Craig sighed, slid him the scratch paper he'd pulled out of a notebook and cleared his throat. "Tom said you were not so hot on some of the stuff we did first semester, so I think we should start in chapter 3 since that's were we kinda started."

Tyler groaned audibly, shutting him up. After a few long moments of silence, Tyler glanced at Craig to see what was going on. To his amazement, Craig was still waiting for his response, still smiling sweetly, still holding the pencil.

"I don't need a tutor, dude."

"Of course you don't. You're smart Tyler, why else would you be in Calculus?"

"Then why am I still here?"

"Because you do need help. Let me help you."

"See ya man," Tyler said, scooping his backpack up off the ground and throwing it over his shoulder.

"Wait," Craig stood, his chair scrapping back slightly. Tyler waited. "You wanna play in the state championship, right?" Craig tried another approach. "Then siting here with me for a few hours isn't going to kill you, okay? If you're failing Calculus, you need me, and if you are gonna play in those championship games, you really need me."

Tyler turned on him, expecting him to be glaring or ready to fight like he was, but Craig was none of that. He just stood, watching him, glasses reflecting the gentle light coming from the windows slightly. He wasn't trying to pull anything, he legitimately wanted to help him.

So with a sigh, Tyler sat back down in the chair, dropping his backpack at his feet and leaning back in his chair slightly. Craig offered him the pencil again, and Tyler glanced from it to him with a raised, unamused eyebrow.

"You don't give up, do you?"

"Makes me the best kind of tutor," Craig smiled knowingly. Tyler snorted a laugh, taking the pencil out of his hand, his skin tingly as it brushed against Craig's. I mean, Craig seemed nice, it couldn't hurt to spend a couple hours with him.

—

Evan was watching the only two people left in the library through a bookshelf by the door. Tyler and Craig were still studying, three hours later. Evan had never seen Tyler so totally engrossed in something before, and the way he was smiling and laughing and looking at Craig was something Evan had never seen in him before. Craig was beaming at the taller boy next to him, his eyes sparkling and his funny laugh tinkling in the quiet library.

"Spying on them too?" Evan whipped around to see Adam and Tom behind him, grinning.

"Honestly, I've never seen him like this before…it's weird," Evan turned back to the others, watching them. Tyler lightly punched Craig's shoulder, giggling with him over something before their heads bent down over the book again.

"They really hit it off," Tom observed.

"What's going on?" Brock's voice was loud, and made the other three jump in surprised. Evan whipped around with the other two and shushed him and Brian quickly, then motioned for the two to join them.

"I think Tyler has a thing for Craig…" Evan explained slowly, voicing everyone else's thoughts.

"Tyler's gay?" Brian asked, nudging against Evan trying to get a good view of the two at the table. "Oh no, yep. That's the Adeline face there."

"Adeline?" Adam asked. He was lying on the floor beneath Evan now starring around the bookshelf corner.

"Tyler's big ex was a senior last year called Adeline. She was a cheerleader, red head, really fucking hot. But she dumped him when she left for Michigan University last year. He was always more into her than she into him, and he payed the toll when she dumped him for a 21 year old at college," Evan explained.

"Ouch…" Adam sympathized. The others nodded in agreement.

Tyler glanced down at his right pocket now, pulling out a phone and reacting surprised. He ran a hand through his hair apologetically and smiled as Craig laughed.

"Shit shit shit shit," Evan hissed, backing up and pushing his other friends towards the library doors as Tyler stood up, slinging his back pack over his shoulder. Craig stood up too, laughing awkwardly as he packed up his books.

"Are they coming this way?" Adam hissed.

"They are in a second!" Evan hissed back, pushing everyone out the double doors of the library and into the empty halls of their school.

"Dammit, I wanted to see if they would kiss!" Brian pouted, coaxing a laugh from all five of them.

"And he complained so fucking much…" Brock laughed.

"Okay fine you guys win," Tyler's voice made all five of them turn sharply to see Tyler and Craig coming through the library doors. "Turns out he's a pretty good tutor," Tyler laughed, throwing an arm around Craig's shoulders. The slight tint of color that appeared across Craig's cheeks made Evan's eyes narrow in suspision, but smiled and replied "thank God, I was really hoping I wouldn't have to replace you," earning him a middle finger from Tyler.

"Come on Ty, I wanna go home," Evan coaxed, and the two made their way to the exit followed by Brock and Brian, who were both carpooling home, and Tom who had his own ride.

When they got to the carpark, Evan and Tyler shouted goodnight to their friends before both fell into Evan's Nissan with a sigh. Tyler laughed lightly.

"What?"

"You guys aren't sneaky, you know that right?"

Evan laughed, turning the key in the ignition and backing out.

"We heard Brock and Brian come in. Craig got a good look at you guys piled up behind the bookshelves too."

"Is that why you left in such a hurry?"

Tyler didn't have an smart-ass answer, so he shut his mouth.

"Ty, look man. If you like this guy, I respect you, okay? You're my best bud and I'm not gonna judge you for it," Evan focused on the road, but felt Tyler's eyes on him. "I won't respect you if you lie to yourself though."

Tyler laughed, and leaned towards Evan, holding his hand in front of the steering wheel for Evan to easily glance down at his palm and see the string of numbers written on it.

"You guys left before the best part," Tyler chastised, snickering.

"You sly dog," Evan turned to him, impressed.

"Don't worry Ev. I am respecting myself. I don't know what is going on here, but I'm not about to rush into anything. Besides, he's my tutor, and this ain't one of those cheesy high school stories." Tyler glanced down at the number on his hand, smiling.

"Can we stop off at Starbucks? I'm need some coffee."

Evan glanced at him, weirded out. "Dude he ain't already rubbing off on you, is he?"

Tyler laughed. "Fuck off you Canadian shit. I just want a coffee. I got a lotta studying to do tonight if I'm gonna ace this next Calc test."

"So you're gonna see him again?" Evan pryed.

Tyler shrugged. "I have to. He was right. If I'm gonna play at the state championships, I need him."

Evan snickered. "Oh sure that's the only reason you need him."

Tyler threw a punch, making the car swerve.

"I'm fucking driving!"

"Shut your bitch-ass mouth and pull into a fucking Starbucks already Ev," Tyler laughed, leaning back in his seat. Evan obliged, giggling still, and found the nearest Starbucks on his iPhone.


	3. Take A Chance On Me

Tyler trusted very few with the maintenance and care of his ship. She was a star cruiser, top of the line war machine with terrific speed. Or at least, she had been until his idiot of an on-board mechanic fucked up her beautiful engines and unbalanced her.

It was all Tyler could do to not break every bone in the guy's body, starring at holo display. He, his second in command—who also went by Noan, two guards, and the useless excuse for a mechanic were all in the engine room. The engines were underneath the ship, built to look like the belly of ship with metallic mesh walkways running several feet above the whirring engines.

"Okay okay, so I know you're mad, captain," the guy babbled off to Tyler's side. "But I don't—I'm not sure how—I mean—"

"You don't know how my ship works?" Wildcat offered. He couldn't look at the guy, instead starred at the glowing blue projection, examining the 3D holograms of his poor engines. How could one guy cause so much damage?

"No—not exactly—" the guy backed up, a little fearful.

"So care to explain exactly how you managed to royal fuck my ship?" Wildcat turned slowly. The mechanic was trembling, his slightly singed hair and clothes still smoking gently. His usually pale skin had changed to a burnt orange tinge, and his pale eyes had taken on a similar color. His dark shirt with matching dark pants tucked into leather boots were also smoking slightly. He wasn't human, Tyler didn't know what the fuck he was. Whatever he was, it was impressive he'd managed to fuck up so badly. He'd come with such high recommendations from his home mechanic, too.

The guy opened his mouth to defend himself, but got nothing. Tyler advanced quickly, his hand closing around the guys neck and lifting him, slamming him against the back wall. He coughed, squeaking out an apology in his home tongue.

"You're getting off this ship as soon as we dock in at Anthios. And then, I don't wanna see you ever a-fucking-gain. Otherwise, you'll pay for it with blood," Tyler spoke softly, nose mere centimeters away from the other man's. He held him against the wall a seconds longer before dropping him to the ground. The mechanic fell on all fours, coughing and gagging for air.

Tyler straightened, motioning for the two guards waiting at the door to take the mechanic away before storming out, followed by his second in command. He made straight for the air shoots leading to the deck.

Behind him, Noan sighed. Tyler knew what that meant, so he spun on them with an eyebrow raised.

"What?" Wildcat asked, daring the individual in front of him to speak.

They didn't budge. Instead, Noan rolled their totally white eyes in exacerbated silence

"You're untrusting."

Wildcat blinked, unmoved. "That's a bad thing?"

"You think?" they responded. Wildcat squinted at Noan. They were tall and thin, dressed in the signature black that marked all of Wildcat's crew. Wildcat's second in command was shorter than he, but skinny, with dark nearly black skin and pale, pale eyes that reflected Wildcat's own reflection. Tyler liked them because they could read people easily; he also didn't like them because they could read him.

Noan looked up. "This is the third mechanic in the last year, Wildcat…"

"Pfft!" Tyler blew out his mouth in a scoffing laugh. "Yeah, because that asshole Vanoss back on Anthios can't recommend me a good fucking mechanic!" Wildcat rolled his eyes, turning back to the air shoot and stepping inside. Noan joined him, his pale eyes frowning.

"I'm serious, Wildcat."

"And I'm fucking serious too, dude!" Wildcat responded, the air in the shaft pushing both of them upwards and up the four stories to the main deck. It was empty, as usual, and the matte black wrap around with red glowing light up the room in a vague, red light. On Tyler's pale, human skin, it made him glow like one of the species from the Magnalia cluster. The main controls were set down a little, while in the back were the walkways to the two plasma ray canons and shield controls.

Wildcat jumped down to the main control wrap around and collapsed into his commanders chair—a wheel leather recliner. He span to face Noan, arms folded and a glare on his face, standing above the main control wrap. Wildcat was taken aback by Noan's expression—unimpressed and slightly annoyed.

"What do you want me to do? Give that dick-cheese another shot at my beautiful baby's engines? Fuck no. The little ass-wipe should be grateful I didn't through him out the fucking airlock," Wildcat defended himself. It was no use.

"You need to learn to trust people," Noan stated, unmoving.

"I trust you—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, and Vanoss, and Moo Snuckel I know, okay?" Noan had heard it too many times, and Tyler felt color rising to his cheeks.

Noan sighed, rubbing the back of their neck. "What I mean is you automatically assume someone is a shit head before you even give them a chance to prove themselves. Okay so the mechanic is a bad example—" Noan cut off Wildcat's argument before the words left his lips "—but you need to start giving people a chance to impress you."

Wildcat leaned back in his chair, squinting at Noan. Tyler never told Noan he was right, he would never be able to it live down. Instead, Tyler grunted, swiveling in the chair and bringing up the Hologram Star Map.

"Set a course for Anthios," Wildcat instructed, busily charting the quickest path to the planet.

"Were you not listening to a word I just said?" Noan countered, annoyed.

"Yeah I did," Wildcat responded. "And I'll do it. But that loser mechanic is NOT staying on this space craft another minute. Set a course for Anthios."

Noan was silent behind Tyler, and Tyler started to wonder if he'd really managed to piss them off. But with a huff of air, Noan joined him at the control panel, switching on the speaker system.

"Crew, this is Noan. We set a course for Anthios…again." Wildcat glanced warningly at Noan who was already rolling their eyes and rolling their chair away from him. Tyler liked Noan a lot, the genderless sass-master was his best friend and greatest partner in all their escapades, but fuck he was annoying sometimes.

* * *

Anthios was very much like Earth, or at least, what Tyler had heard about Earth. Earth had been beautiful, lush and plentiful in its hay day. But as years turned to decades, the human race depleted their planet's natural resources, and they moved to the stairs to grow. Anthios wasn't Tyler's home planet, but he spent so much time here it was a second home to him.

Now, Wildcat and his crew have docked in Anthios's biggest port and city, Ro. The mechanic was being escorted of the ship by two of the ship's guards, followed by Roan and Wildcat. He was busy trying to contact his slummy friend in the district.

"It's nothing personal or anything, Hank," Roan was saying, shrugging off the glare the mechanic—Hank, apparently—gave them as he was thrown unceremoniously onto the metal dock walkway. Others were watching the transaction with a mixture of curiosity and slyness; you don't laugh when another guy is kicked off his ship, but you couldn't help it.

"Like fuck it is," the mechanic spat. "I'm telling you: those engines are jacked! Good luck finding anyone who can fucking fix those!"

Roan shrugged, nodding their head at the guards before turning around and going to Wildcat's side while the guards landed one punch each into the mechanic's stomach before dragging him off to the dock's detention center. Most likely they would hand him over saying he had "verbally assaulted both captain and second in command" and "attempted sabotage."

"Okay, he's off the ship," Roan sighed, rubbing the back of their neck and glancing up, smiling warmly as the rest of the crew disembarked. Wildcat didn't take notice of any of them, busily frowning at the still calling hologram on his wrist.

"Does it hurt THAT much to say thank you?" Roan glared. Wildcat grunted, not listening.

Roan grumbled something in his own tongue, making Wildcat glance up suspiciously.

"Well, well, well," a familiar voice crackled over Wildcat's wrist, and the hologram image of Vanoss popped up into the empty space above Wildcat wrist. Tyler was not entirely sure what species Vanoss was, with his large yellow eyes slanted downwards into almost a continuous glare and dark feathers where his hair should be. He was an owl or some sorts, but that was the extent of Wildcat's knowledge. "If it isn't my favorite human!" Vanoss smiled, his eyes twinkling with a smile that always made Tyler suspicious.

"There you are you little feathered prick," Wildcat growled to his hologram, nodding a thank you to Roan who went to negotiate a refuel. "What kind of guy do you take me for?"

"A very handsome man?" Vanoss smiled, raising an eyebrow. When he got no response, he tried "The kindest, most forgiving human this side of Anthios?" Another negative. Vanoss sighed.

"Someone not to fuck with?" Vanoss tried, biting his lip waiting for the screaming.

"So why give me the worst fucking mechanic this side of the galaxy?" Wildcat screamed.

Vanoss backed up slightly, blinking a little surprised at Wildcat's fury. "Who? Hank?"

"Yes fucking Hank, dick cheese!" Wildcat rolled his head in an exaggerated eye roll. "You're little Hank boy royally fucked up my baby's beautiful engines!"

"Wow that's kinda bad…" Vanoss sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and blinking his yellow eyes several times in thought. "Well, you've peaked my interest. I'll come up to the docks."

* * *

Wildcat was lying on the wing of the star ship, dozing in the large sun of Anthios. It was hot, so he'd taken off the leather jacket and black overskirt so he was just in a tank top and black pants roughly tucked into leathery hiking boots.

Noan had disappeared, gone into the market to rustle up food supplies for the rest of the crew. Where ever his crew was, they'd disappeared too. Just Tyler, sleepily reclined on his star craft. It'd been nearly an hour since he called Vanoss, and still the feathered sleaze hadn't shown up. Not that he was entirely surprised. Vanoss, in his experience, was not always the most trustworthy individual; he had to be pushed to do the right thing, to give the greatest deals. All Wildcat could hope was that he'd pushed enough to make his shady feathered friend.

"Wildcat, am I right?" an unfamiliar voice called up to Wildcat. Tyler sat up, frowning confused as he looked down to the dock where a small dressed in a white tank top and orange jumpsuit with the top tied around his waist. He wore glasses over his gray blue eyes, and had short, blond hair gently dusted with something black. He had a heavy bag strapped to his back and several dark colored fiber bags in his hand.

The guy smiled a lopsided, goofy smile. "Vanoss sent me up here. Something about 'particular' engines."

Wildcat blinked, a little confused, but scrambled up from his reclining position once the guy made his way up the ramp to the loading dock of Wildcat's ship, all he while talking.

"Vanoss told me you threw Hank off your ship because he fucked up your engines. I'm not entirely surprised; the guy couldn't put together a basic hover craft engine, but Vanoss said he was the guy for the mission. Can't say I'm complaining, well…I guess a little. I would love to work on this beauty of a ship," the guy trailed off, marveling at the interior of the ship's docking bay as Wildcat stumbled to catch him.

"Where's Vanoss?" Wildcat asked, glancing back to the dock as he ran after the mechanic.

"Oh, he couldn't make. He sent me up here instead, he sends his apologies. This way to the engine room right?" the guy jerked his thumb towards one of the air shafts and, without waiting for a response, jumped down the shaft.

"Whoa, hey, hey, hey!" Wildcat shouted, stumbling over the doorway into the air shaft and falling face first. He hit the floor below him with a hard thud and much swearing.

Tyler lifted his head stunned, and saw the mechanic standing over him with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile. He held out a hand to help Tyler up, still grinning.

"Forget to mention. My handle is Mini Ladd," the mechanic's grin was contagious, and Tyler could feel it tugging at his own lips.

Wildcat back handed the Mini Ladd's hand out of the way, getting to his feet with a glare that made Mini Ladd's face fall.

"Care to tell me why Vanoss can't be here himself?" Wildcat growled, noticing how he towered over Mini Ladd with slight glee.

Mini Ladd shrugged. "He didn't say. I'm happy he told me to go though. I've wanted to work on a star ship for a while now," Mini Ladd rubbed the back of his neck, laughing gently.

Wildcat seethed. He couldn't believe this; Vanoss had screwed him over again. "I didn't ask for some preppy fuck boy to come to MY ship, to fix MY engines, to screw up MY perfect ship. Get me Vanoss right fucking now, or I'll do more than simply throw you off MY ship," Wildcat growled, his voice low and threatening.

Mini Ladd swallowed hard, his eyes widening slightly. "Listen—Wildcat. I get your mad, okay? But you gotta trust me, man. I know what I'm doing. I have the original blue prints to your ship downloaded," Mini Ladd replied cooly, tapping on his wrist holo machine and bringing up multiple diagrams of the ship's engines. "I know you were expecting Vanoss, and I know you're probably done with amateurs, but I really think I can do this."

Wildcat didn't move a muscle. He raised an eyebrow, his jaw set in a continuous glare at the smaller man. Mini Ladd wriggled uncomfortably, tapping his holo wrist and getting rid of the blueprints before looking back up at the tall guy. "I've been studying my entire way here. You know how many weird looks I got on the train here?" Please, take a chance on me, Captain Wildcat," Mini Ladd pleaded, his eyes large and hopeful.

Wildcat gave the guy a once over, before smirking gently. "How old are you, kid? Nineteen?"

"Twenty one, thanks," Mini Ladd laughed. It was a loud, pitchy laugh that made Tyler smile at the sound of it.

"And you think you can take on my 'particular' engines?" Wildcat asked, brushing gently passed Mini Ladd as he sauntered over to engine room door, leaning against it with a raised eyebrow.

Mini Ladd laughed, blushing a little as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I don't wanna sound cocky, but—"

"Then here is the deal," Wildcat cut him off, dropping his playful flirting to get serious and crossed his arms authoritatively. "You do a good job, I'll pay you full and give you a good recommendation. You do a great job, and you'll get a spot on my crew as my mechanic."

Mini Ladd grinned wildly, excited by the proposition. He opened his mouth to speak, but Wildcat held up one finger to silence him.

"You do a bad job, and your gonna regret stepping foot in my line of sight."

Mini Ladd's face fell as he weighed the options in his head. But Tyler already knew his answer; he'd made an offer Mini Ladd couldn't refuse. So Wildcat pressed his palm to the scanner next to the door. With a ding, the door slid open and the wiring or electricity and metal met both of their ears. The two stepped inside the engine room, Wildcat glancing at Mini Ladd's face as the smaller man took in the sight and sounds like a kid in a candy shop.

Mini Ladd turned, a determined smile on his face as he held out his hand to shake Wildcat's. "I won't let you down."

* * *

"You wanna explain to me why my youngest mechanic is on your space ship right now?'' Vanoss asked, an eyebrow raised and his yellow eyes squinting as he starred through the hologram. Wildcat was on the main deck with Noan and Mini Ladd, the latter of which was already dressed in the tight black shirt with matching black leather jacket and black pants. He was dressed in the crew colors, and the grin plastered across his face was more than enough to make Tyler grin as well.

"We kinda kidnapped him," Wildcat snickered.

Vanoss set his jaw, glancing from Wildcat to Mini Ladd. "Why?"

"Because he's done the best out of all the little punk mechanics you sent me," Wildcat retorted, smugly. "And considering you couldn't be bothered to come to my ship yourself…consider it pay back."

"You're taking Mini Ladd to spite me…" Vanoss asked, raising his eyebrows perplexed.

"That's right," Wildcat crossed his arms, smirking. "I'll give him back eventually, maybe, I'm just taking him for a little run around a galaxy or two. He's always wanted to work on a star ship anyway," Wildcat glanced at Mini Ladd for confirmation, which he got in a furious nod.

Vanoss leaned back in his chair with a long sigh.

"FINE! You can take him. You better not hurt him though, okay? I want him back in one piece, thank you," Vanoss glared, his yellow eyes narrowed.

"I won't do anything to him he doesn't want," Wildcat winked. Behind him, Mini Ladd scoffed and Roan let out groan. Wildcat turned to Vanoss, who was glaring at him furiously for that last little joke, and ended the call with a slam of his fist and a final satisfied smirk. The hologram shrank down and the expanse of space opened up before the three on the main deck.

"Vanoss won't be happy. I'll be very surprised if he doesn't trie to hunt us down for that last little dig," Noan mumbled under their breath, glancing up at the two men from his seat at the main controls. "You have a talent for pissing people off, Wildcat."

"We won't need to go back to Anthios for a long time now," Mini Ladd cut in. "Those engines will carry us several galaxies over. I say we can keep running for a good couple months before we need to dock again."

"Well then," Wildcat said, placing his hands on the controls and glancing back, winking at Noan who rolled their eyes and Mini Ladd who grinned excitedly. He was a pretty boy, Tyler had to hand it to him, and maybe kidnapping this kid was a bad idea. Probably was, since Wildcat tried to never trust anyone. But maybe, this one time, he could take a chance on Mini Ladd.

"Where do we run away to first?"


	4. RQ Genghis Khan

Craig should be used to getting kidnapped, thrown into the backs of cars, driven over every speed bump in New York, then clamped down to a surgical table. Being an international diplomat—of sorts, more like spy if he was being really honest though—this sort of shit happened on a near weekly basis for him. Yet, as Craig turned his head as best as he could but seeing nothing except the darkened ceiling above, it still threw him through a loop every time. Craig strained his wrists against the heavy clamps, testing their strength, then strained his legs. None of the clamps gave way; he was properly stuck in.

Shit. Craig sighed, allowing his head to fall back against the hard metal table, and blew air out of his mouth. He was trapped, with no possible way out this time.

From what Craig could tell about the room, it was a large, circular shaped area complete with a dome ceiling and arches around the outside of the lowered circular room Craig was in. Above him, through the arches, he could see the slight glint of armor and guns and hear the low murmur of guards. A faint, low hum of electricity ran throughout the room, making the small hairs on Craig's arms and neck standup. Everything seemed at a stand still, waiting for a signal to roar to life. And Craig new exactly what—rather who—that signal was.

All at once, the roar came. Tall LED lights surrounding the lowered, circular room light up, all converging on a small flight of stairs connecting the lowered room to the walkway above it. Twisting his head, Craig could see helmeted guards standing in every archway, their backs to Craig, guns strapped across each back. Their uniforms were a dark navy blue like the helmets, with high collars and a white belt strapped firmly around each waist. They were like dolls all lined up on a shelf.

Then came the laughter, it was a high pitched chuckle, short and to the point, responding to a joke Craig was no allowed to know. The squeak of sneakers on the cement floor as Craig's target swaggered past the archways inhabited by guards.

"Ya' know, Mr. Thompson," the familiar voice echoed off the cement walls, making Craig shiver. "For a James Bond kinda guy, you ain't really that good at it."

Craig tilted his head up to see him, his target, sauntering down the steps with an all-too-confident smirk, a dark navy blue jumpsuit unzipped slightly, revealing his white shirt underneath. On his face was the familiar brass pig nose, hiding the massive scared tissue under. This man was the most notorious criminal head of all of New York, and Craig's target for the past three weeks of his stay in New York: Wildcat.

Craig sighed, a smile on his lips as he leant his head back on the operating board. "James Bond was bad at his job because everyone knew he existed. You didn't know I existed until, what? A few days ago?"

Wildcat stood over him, a smug grin on his face. He hummed a response, allowing his eyes to linger on the British agent before turning his head away and moving to a large computer tower Craig had not noticed before.

"So," Craig started, lifting his head up to see. "Now that I have you trapped here, would you like to confess?"

Wildcat snickered, his shoulders shaking with laughter. His fingers moved swiftly over the control panel, coaxing another wire of electricity. Wildcat turned his head slightly, glancing at Craig still straining at his restraints. He smiled inwardly at the small British man known to be such a fighter now defenseless in his care. Wildcat jerked his head upwards, directing the agent's attention from himself and up to the large needle pointing straight at Craig's chest. Smirking again as the color drained from Craig's face, Wildcat turned back to the control panels, spinning a dial to "maximum" then flipping the "prime" switch.

Above Craig, the needle began to glow with a red, pulsating light. Craig felt beads of sweat form on his brow and roll down his forehead. Wrong day to be wearing a nice white button down and dress pants.

Wildcat spun, smirking with joy at the distress on Craig's face. He stopped at his feet, holding up a pair of pliers raising an eyebrow.

Craig just rolled his eyes. "That's a totally new torture device. Ten outta ten."

Wildcat narrowed his eyes, smiling the agent's joke. Wildcat leaned over the wheelie table at Craig's feet again, and when he stood up, Craig felt his stomach lurch. In his hand, Craig could see a metal box with a long antenna at the top. One button, glowing a similar red as the needle, casting a red light on the side of Wildcat's face.

"Confess?" Wildcat smiled, running a finger up the side of the table all the way up to Craig's head where he leaned close. Up close, Craig could see his own reflection in the brass pig nose and in Wildcat's eyes. The man's cologne snaked it's way around Craig, the tantalizing smell wriggling into his nose and leaving him wanting more. "What do you want me to confess, Mr. Thompson?"

Craig swallowed, hard. "Maybe to the hundreds of men you've killed through drug trafficking, mobbing, and human experimentation?" Craig offered, his smile making Wildcat's stomach lurch all over again. It was that same smile he'd seen so many countless times in photos, videos, and sketches of him.

Wildcat simply raised an eyebrow, straightening with a hummed laughter and backing away from the table. Craig followed Wildcat's gaze up to the needle above him. Ironically, one of the best days to be wearing your finest dress clothes, on the day you die. He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing himself for what looked like the end of it all.

"Oh, I'll confess," Wildcat murmured, watching the agent squirm useless in his restraints again, unaware of what he was saying. "I'll confess to being selfish, and maybe a little obscene in my affection" Wildcat was enjoying himself too much, glancing down at the red "kill" button pulsing on the . "But you ain't leaving me once I'm through with you," Wildcat snarled, grinning as he raised in hand up to hit the button.

A horn blared suddenly, making both Wildcat and Craig jump at the intrusive sound. Wildcat's head snapped up to wall where the clock was, aware of Craig's eyes falling on him for explanation.

Just as Wildcat feared: the clock read five o'clock.

Wildcat let out a loud growl of anger, punching the air above him and slamming the remote down on the wheelie table in a fury.

"Save by the bell?" Craig asked, raising an eyebrow. Watching Wildcat's entire body shake as he breathed in and out calming himself down. The man looked sharply up at Craig, glaring spitefully for a few seconds before allowing it to melt into a sad smile.

"Save the fun for tomorrow?" Wildcat offered, straightening up and running a hand through his short cut hair, winking at the agent. He didn't wait for an answer, instead turning and stalking up the stair case a little more hurriedly than either he or Craig wanted him to.

* * *

"Tyler!"

Wildcat jerked slightly at the sudden use of his name. He glanced to the source to see an angry women sitting up in bed next to him, her hair in curlers and cast in shadows from the Wildcat's bedside lamp still switched on. He didn't remember how long he'd been sitting there, all he knew was it was a while since he'd blinked.

"What?"

Kelly groaned, flopping back into bed on her back and stared up at the ceiling. "I could deal when it was work, I put up with it when you had late calls or late work, I understood when you spent nights working, but this—" she flapped her hands in the air, twisting her neck to look at Wildcat. "I can't deal with this. With the awake and not doing anything."

"Sorry," Wildcat responded absent minded-ly. He was still starring into nothing, his mind still wrapped up in the events of today, specifically, the last hour of his "work" day.

"You were like this over dinner too!" She groaned. "Samantha was so happy too because she just mad honor student and everything…"

Wildcat had known about agent Craig Thompson for a long time now. He'd known eventually the British internationally hired spy would come to New York for one reason or the other to track him down for one thing or the other. He wasn't the first agent assigned to Wildcat either; more like the ninth. Nine agents before him, mostly dead, and Mr. Thompson was not going to be an exception. Especially when this particular agent was assigned to kill him.

"And then Tommy was trying to show you that plastic airplane you bought him for his birthday…"

The needle was a new contraption he was testing out too. A supposed heat ray that would super heat the body to extreme temperatures, but it had a habit of switching off when it got too hot itself. What Wildcat wanted to know was what would happen after: either the subject would explode, or brain dead. Wildcat's stomach flipped unexpectedly at that thought. Mr. Thompson, Craig Thompson, dead; he was starting to like the sound of that a less and less.

"…and you just starred at the TV! You looked right through him!"

Okay so Mr. Thompson was indeed a little crush, Wildcat didn't have in shame in admitting that. But that had never stopped him before. Nine spies within the last five years, some were attractive, some weren't, and Wildcat wasn't going to deny that.

"Are you even listening to me?"

All he had to do was press a button, was that so hard? Mr. Thompson was trapped, locked down, completely out of luck and had orders to assassinate him. This should be an easy call for Wildcat, but somehow, it was the toughest decision he had faced to date. There was nothing special about him at all! He was conventionally pretty, he had a slightly lopsided smile and a high pitched laugh. He was built, but not very, his glasses were somehow always smudged and his eyes—what use was it? The more Wildcat thought about his test subject, his captive, Craig Thompson, strapped to that operating table, asleep, the more Wildcat longed to be at his side.

"TYLER!"

Wildcat started again, taking a long breath.

"What the fu—"

"I have to go," Wildcat mumbled, throwing off the bed sheets and pulling his dark navy blue jacket on again. He couldn't live with Mr. Thompson—Craig—haunting him anymore. He'd been all he'd thought about since he first learned he was in New York. This, whatever this thing was, had to end. Now.

* * *

Craig blinked sleepily, squinting at the mass of lights that had just whirred to life around him. The guards were back, the needle was not active, and Wildcat was sauntering back down that small flight of stairs to where he lay. He was expressionless, not saying anything taunting as he moved slowly yet surely towards him.

Craig grinned, lifting his head up sleepily from the table. "Time for you to let me go?" Craig asked hopefully, the playful smile on his lips a purposeful tease to his captor.

Nothing. Instead, Wildcat slammed his hands down on the side of the operating table, shaking it violently. Craig's heart crashed against his rib cage momentarily at the sudden closeness, eyes wide and starring back at Wildcat's penetrating stare.

"Since you hear, mind scratching my nose? It's been itching all night," Craig joked, hoping he could throw Wildcat off or distract him, anything to stop that stare that heated him up so much.

Wildcat's stoney face melted, but into a slight frown. Slowly, he lifted his hands off the table, taking several steps back. He watched Craig turn his head back to look at him questioningly, but Wildcat still frowned. He was angry now, angry that this agent could just brush him off so easily while the thought of Craig lingered in his mind for weeks and weeks.

"I knew about you for a lot longer than a few days…"

"What?" Craig frowned, feeling his throat close around the words as he lifted his head, straining to get a good view of Wildcat. The man stood still, stoney, hands shoved into pants pockets and brass pig nose glinting cold and hard. Wildcat looked just like the man Craig had spent hours studying before his mission. Every single detail of his operations, his known experimentations, and his mannerisms and habits.

"I've known about you for a LOT longer than a few days Craig Thompson," Wildcat chuckled darkly, moving to the foot of Craig's table. "Waiting for you to stumble into my city so I could finally meet you."

Craig swallowed thickly, his neck aching from the effort of keeping it up and following Wildcat's every move.

"I've spent a long time imagining what I would say to you once I got you," Wildcat continued, thumbing the remote for the laser again, that tantalizing smirk on his face again. He narrowed his eyes at the agent laying before him, Craig shaking from the effort of keeping his head up.

"And now that I can finally say it, you go and treat me like this," Wildcat's face darkened instantly, and Craig felt his stomach lurch again.

"I—"

"—am sorry?" Wildcat offered with a sneer. He snorted. "Please. Don't pretend you're all high and mighty now," Wildcat cleared his throat, turning over his shoulder to flip the "prime" switch again on the needle. Above Craig, the needle whirred, snapping with the thousands of volts of electricity streaming through every fiber of the metalwork. The red glow tinted everything around Craig, including the man he couldn't take his eyes off of. His eyes reflected the red glow in their hard stare back, and maybe it was the heat from the needle, or the coldness in Wildcat's stare, but Craig began to sweat.

"If you have any last words," Wildcat mused, his eyes never leaving Craig's. "You maybe wanna say them now?"

Craig felt desperation creeping up from his stomach and strangling. He had something to say, too bad his words were falling helplessly off his tongue.

Wildcat raised an eyebrow, stepping up closer to Craig's table, pursing his lips in impatience. He hated getting close to him now, Craig was intoxicating.

"I've been tracking you and your case for a long time," Craig spoke hoarsely, the heat exuding from the ray pressing into his skin. "I made some crazy deals to finally get assigned to you, so crazy I can't believe I made them. I'm not here to assassinate you, never was going to, I just couldn't make up my mind," Craig spoke fast, his words blurring together slightly as the panic from the intensity of the laser and Wildcat standing over him, tall and imposing. "I wanna make up my mind, but I can't when it came to you. Now, my decision is made for me," Craig finally stopped for a breath, resting his head down onto the metal, but still turned to Wildcat. His eyes watered as he finished, and Craig tried hard to blink back his tears.

Above him, Wildcat felt his heart beating wildly against his chest. No even breathing could stop it, and even standing still, arms crossed, finger thumbing the "kill" button, Wildcat knew he couldn't press it. But he had to.

So he raised his finger, glaring hard at the remote, determined not to look at Craig. Blood rushed in his ears as he starred down at the red glowing button. He could do this. But then his eyes were drawn against his will away from the remote, down to the warm, wet, brown ones of the one thing he was totally unsure of in his life. He couldn't do this.

Wildcat lowered the remote and his hands, swearing as he did and storming off. On the table, Craig closed his eyes with a sigh. He couldn't see where Wildcat had gone now, but heard his feet behind his table. Wildcat stomped, swearing under his breath, he kicked something over with a clatter, then the sound of a heavy hit of flesh against concrete.

Wildcat's open palm was pressed against the concrete, grounding him as he scrunched his eyes shut and shook his head. He was still a few seconds before straightening, sucking air in through his brass pig nose and sighing deeply.

"Make up your goddamn mind, Tyler," Wildcat hissed to himself, starring at the remote in his hands. This entire time he'd been thumbing the red "kill" button, waiting for his chance to use it. Yet the more Wildcat starred, the more his finger itched to move down to the green button underneath it, a label next to it reading "release."

"Make up your mind," Wildcat breathed again, starring now at the green button. It was a simple question of what did he want more? If Wildcat released the agent, Craig, he risked his life and reputation in the city. Craig had orders to kill him, and whether or not he would go through with it was questionable. Even if Craig's "feelings" for him were real, Wildcat could never be safe with him no matter how hard he tried. Safety in Craig's death, or risk it all and spare his life?

It felt like ages before Wildcat found the strength to press the button. He couldn't turn around, he couldn't watch.

Behind him, the laser whirred down to a stop, the handcuffs binding the agent to the metal table snapped open, and the slight rustle of cloth as Craig jumped off the table were all he heard.

Wildcat held up a hand, not turning around. "Don't shoot…let him go," Wildcat commanded, his words echoing around the concrete bunker. Silence followed, and that confused Wildcat. He expected to hear Craig run up the steps and out of the experimentation lab, unless…

Footsteps, headed towards him, growing louder with each step. Wildcat stiffened, knowing already what Craig was doing. He was expecting to see the small hand held gun expertly aimed at his head.

"I know James Bond usually gets the ladies at the end," the familiar British voice chirped behind him. The smile radiated off of him, infecting Wildcat and making him smile and dare to hope that when he turned around there wouldn't be a gun pointed at his head. Maybe he could have this agent all for himself without him being dead.

"But, do you think James Bond might actually get the guy this time?" Craig asked, sheepishly. Wildcat turned, and allowed the grin to spread across his lips as he saw Craig standing behind him, no gun, just smiles.

"I think it's more like James Bond still gets the bad guy," Wildcat mused, sauntering up to Craig with a sureness that made Craig blush a little. "And the girls were never his for long," Wildcat added.

"Am I yours, then?" Craig breathed, the cologne back and smelling more fantastic than ever. Wildcat was close now, expelling a heat stronger than the heat ray he'd had Craig trapped under.

"You're nobody else's, but mine," Wildcat affirmed, a small sly grin edging it's way across his smile as he took Craig's hand in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing the soft skin. When Wildcat looked back up at the agent, Craig's smile was a genuine happiness that made Wildcat's own heart sore. No tricks anymore, no teasing anymore, they had both made up their minds that this was what they wanted.


	5. Waste of Time

Craig wasn't going to let the fact that his cheating ex was dancing a few feet away. They were in the same friend circle, it's not like Craig could have avoided him anyway. When Tyler came to LA for a summer vacation, they'd been broken up for two months, and two months was more than enough for Craig to find out he didn't need him.

No, he didn't need a waste of time.

The last two months had been freeing. He'd stayed out every night, brought girls home, played his music as loud as he wanted, and went out on dates. He was enjoying being single for the first time in nearly two and a half years, and tonight was not going to be an acceptation. Especially if this was the first time seeing Tyler in two months.

The music was pounding, vibrating the air above his raised hands, rattling through the bones of the bodies dancing around him. He felt Brian brush up against him, grinning from the deafening noises, on his other side Tom and James, passing beers over to the two of them from above the crowd. Tom's phone was in his hand high above looking down on them, and Craig leaned into the frame, pulling a face before taking a long swig. Even the chilled taste of the Coors Light vibrated with each thump, iced water running down his wrist and mixing with the sweat prickling his skin.

Craig's eyes drifted through the bodies of the crowd. Evan was on the other side of Brian, then Brock and Marcel, both going harder than they probably should be with glass tumblers in their hands. And then there was Tyler, bopping gently to the beat, detached from the group a little. Without needing to be near him, Craig could already smell his sweat, feel the ghost of his fingers on his skin, the heat of his breath on the back of his neck. It was an unintentional memory, one that passed quickly, but left Craig feeling empty for the first time in months.

Turning away again, Craig tried to empty his mind with another swig of beer unsuccessfully. This wouldn't do, he needed something stronger, something a little more mind numbing. The song was speeding up, and Craig felt his friends around him press tighter, bouncing and screaming along. Except Craig, he moved like it was clockwork, he could feel himself slipping back into a memory, one he didn't need tonight. A smutty, foul memory.

It was supposed to be a surprise, a visit to Indiana not even Craig had known he was going to do. The air was cold, night time, he'd taken a red eye from Los Angeles that Friday night. His shoulders ached from carrying a heavy backpack and duffle bag; he was going to spend a least a week there. Tyler's house was beautiful, it was a house after all, not Craig's small apartment with thin walls, floors, and ceiling. But there was a car outside the house Craig didn't recognize.

Someone fell into Craig, jerking him back into the glitzy glamor of the nightclub. Tom, screaming some lyrics, glancing back at him with an apologetic look on his face. Craig grinned, pushing himself into the moment with some effort, helping Tom back up. Brian wrapped an arm around his shoulders as he bounced to the rhythm, pulling Craig with him into the beat. Their hands were raised high, beer reaching towards the tall ceiling and strobe lights above them. Water trickled down Craig's arm, tweaking his heated skin and making him shiver.

Then he was back in the Indiana night, he pushed the door open and almost slid on something on the floor. Heels left neatly by the door, then he saw a women's fur coat dropped gracefully over the back of the sofa. This wasn't a random occurrence, this was rehearsed, as if this had happened a million times. He could feel the dread building up in his system again as he took the stairs two at a time, the creak of floor boards and bed springs. It was like nails dragging along a blackboard, so painful to Craig he thought his ears would bleed or his heart would stop.

There was another surge from the people around him, and Craig stumbled. He felt hands on his back, and turning around he saw a group of girls starring at him, one grinning sympathetically as she pushed him off of her. Craig tried to shout sorry over the crowd, but she didn't hear him, she turned back to her friends and Craig was left standing.

Tyler's house. He pushed the door open, feeling like he was going to throw up. Clothes were thrown all over the floor, pillows were chucked everywhere. Fuck, Craig was disgusted, seeing his boyfriend laid back on the bed with another women bouncing up and down on him, her head thrown back as she moaned in passion. Tyler's hands were on her hips, moving her up and down, his face scrunched as he held himself back. It only lasted a second, then Tyler saw Craig. The girl went flying off of Tyler, then saw Craig standing and ran to the bathroom yelling something. Tyler came to Craig, but Craig stepped back, screaming, face red.

Craig could feel his face reddening as he remembered, the embarrassment, the rage, the pure emotion coursing through his blood he'd felt. How could Tyler do that to him? Fuck another girl while he was so far away, who could do that in good consciousness?

Turning around, Craig could see Tyler through the crowd, not separated from the group this time. He was dancing with Evan and Brock, beer raised up towards and ceiling as he shouted along with the others, laughing, completely unaware of Craig. He vaguely felt the cold bottle slip from between his fingers and crash onto the floor, unheard over the raging party around him.

Craig remembered the feeling of his fist clenching up, the swing powerful and stinging, but Tyler had dodged it, his face falling fast. Craig beat his fists against Tyler, screaming every foul word he could think of, daggers aimed at his cheating boyfriend. Tyler didn't cry, Craig had never seen him shed a tear, and even now. Tyler didn't cry, but Craig did.

He didn't notice he was making his way through the crowd until it was too late. Hot tears were stinging the corners of his eyes, his fingernails dug into the skin of his palm, blood rushed so violently in his ears he heard nothing. He couldn't see anything through his tear-blurred, red hazed state either, just Tyler at first oblivious to the advancing man. Craig hated how his face fell, how his movements slowed, how he seemed to fall back into the memory Craig was still stuck in.

This time, Craig swung and didn't miss.

The impact was so great it took everyone around them by surprise, including Tyler and Craig. Tyler staggered, falling into some people behind him, screams and shouts of "the fuck dude" cut through the thumping music. Tyler's bottle crashed onto the floor, glass shattering and beer wetting the floor, Tyler's white shoes, and spattering the trouser legs of his jeans. Craig felt hands grab his shoulders, pulling him back and shouting, but he didn't struggle. Tyler slowly staggered back to his feet, glaring at Craig.

"I've been wanting to do that for fucking ever," Craig hissed. It shouldn't have been audible, but Tyler must have heard it because his face darkened.

He clenched his fists and within a blink of an eye he swung too. Craig stepped out of the way and dove at him, knocking Tyler backwards into more people not quick enough to jump out of the way. Craig's nails went for Tyler's eyes, the latter pushing back, his hands wrapped around Craig's wrists straining with the effort to push him off. With a shove, Craig went staggering backwards, unable to jump out of the way of the fist that swung into his gut. He bent over, coughing, then felt another impact hit his cheek, making him spin into Tom who was behind him. Craig dodged Tom's hands trying to restrain him, swinging at Tyler's head. He missed, but followed through with a sharp elbow into the man's stomach, winding him. Tyler doubled, and Craig brought his knee up into Tyler's face with a sickening crack. Tyler's head went flying back up, and Craig could see a pretty purple bruise forming on his ex-lover's cheek. But Tyler growled meanly, and rammed his head into Craig's stomach, pushing him backwards and on to the ground, skidding a little before stopping on almost the other side of the dance floor. The crowd had parted, shouting and phones flashing.

Craig blinked, disorientated slightly, slowly pushing himself up, his eyes never leaving Tyler. He was bigger than Craig, but he didn't fucking care. He wanted blood. With a scream Craig flew at him again, and Tyler came at him too, the two clashing like titans, nails and fists a whirl. Craig couldn't tell where his body ended and Tyler's began, where his rage turned into Tyler's rage. Everything around the two of them seemed to melt in a sick, twisted version of a first kiss. He was vaguely aware of Tom, no longer with his vlogging phone out, trying to pull them apart before getting pushed away by one of them. James was gone and so was other three, Brock, Brian, and Marcel were trying to pull them apart.

Then suddenly Craig was a kitten being dragged away by the scruff of his neck. The security must have come, thanks to James and Evan, who Craig saw come running over to him, concern and fear written across their faces.

"What the fuck Craig?" Came Evan's concerned voice, helping him back up, surveying his face. "Why the fuck did you do that?"

Craig glanced behind him, seeing James talking to the security guy, a gruff man with a set face that slowly eased as James continued to speak. He was working his magic, and Craig knew he and Tyler weren't going to be kicked out any time soon thankfully.

With a look that could melt flesh from bones, Craig found Tyler, attended by Brock and Brian and Marcel across the room. The three of them kept glancing between Tyler and Craig then between each other, but Tyler's eyes never left Craig's. The two glared for a long time, what seemed like forever, before finally Tyler spat a bloodied glad of saliva down on the floor in Craig's direction. Evan saw it, and pushed back against Craig as the latter surged, wanting to make him regret that spit.

"Let it go man," Evan hissed, glaring at him.

"He cheated on me Evan," Craig snarled, turning his fiery gaze on him. "And you want me to just 'let it go'?"

"No matter how many punches you throw, it will never be enough," Evan snapped back, pushing his palms flat against Craig's shoulders, pushing him back further.

"It will never be alright, okay? But you don't need to prove it's not alright either. He missed you, you're gone," Evan continued, his voice growing gentle.

There was truth in his words, and slowly, Craig's gaze softened and he eventually dropped it, unable to look at Evan. With a long sigh, Craig looked up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears back unsuccessfully. He bit his lip, blinking several times before finally having the courage to look back at Tyler.

Tyler had dropped his gaze too, but was holding a new cold beer to his cheek, swelling up impressively. That mark would be on his cheek for a while, and it would be the last mark Craig would leave on Tyler.

Ever.

((Song: Left With Someone Else by Gabriella Cilmi))


End file.
